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sometimes the images are so much There. This, probably the most of any. There was no effort.
Which is WonderFULL. But also which brings the reality that there really is little else that is needed. And, more, wanted. Stitches or the addition of cloth fragments feel almost intrusive, and for no good reason.
so Beauty Fully, sharing space. Of their own accord. Tall Grass People, Sky Lupine. Next to. Sharing. Each complete.
when i went to the top gate of B yesterday, to go In, through the fence gate so i could hang the Love Pennant, so i could plant the little pots of spindly Indigo and Madder, i was not expecting what i found. Instantly, there before me was a Fine and Brilliant world of Beings...all reaching UP and so so BEING. I immediately stopped and looked.
I have been talking about language. Of finding the way this Place might be communicating...and what I experienced was so different than how i had been able to imagine it.
the Language of this Place, this Hill, is that of Being. So many hundreds of so small plants spoke their Beingness. As i stood there, just inside the fence, i could FEEL it. A vibration?...that's a word that
can work in the moment...a vibration?, but it's different than that and i don't know how to speak of it.
but what i felt was a Welcoming. A welcoming of some kind of sense of WE. But also an asking to go Slow. To let go of Knowing and just find what Is. Everything here on this small hill of the Hill is different than it was the last spring. How many springs might there be, to understand anything at all?
and then i hung the Cloth and planted the little peat pots. Things are patient.
it was nothing less than magical. I'd not gone in, from the back of B for over a week. Everything had changed. Everywhere were small, tiny, blooming plant people...so many it was breathtaking. In the bag, on the arm of the New Mex chair, the bag from Deb Lacativa, i brought Mo's Pennant. Today was the day. I pinned it with cloths pins to the line there. There was Wind and it fluttered.
the cast iron pot. Oak Galls. All through the Rain Season, which is Winter here, it sat. Lid closed.
i took off the lid and almost fainted with Thrill!!!!! What IS this??????, an iron/rust bloom? What might that mean? to cloth? I have no idea. But the Beauty of it was more than i might ever have imagined. I'll take cloth there. string to bind it. Set it in. Wait.
more fully realizing, and maybe not really Realizing yet, the difference of the Making here. Now that Out Side has opened from the rain, from the continuing of familiar ways that a season of rain allows, or, encourages....Now that Out is most where Life takes place, in putting pieces together here today, i realized that it is Very different, the arrangement of How It Is on a ground cloth. No longer the defined figure upon lean and spare horizons. Looking here, there is forest. In certain places here, a kind of horizon can be seen, but it too is forested. Forest and Sky. I need to open to a different way of making. I don't know how to do that.
i had mended these worn spots on this pillow Cover, was so happy with the mending and then it went into the wash and, o, eeeee, the extent of the wear became clear. The Other side was fine. So i just kept putting the Other side out, visible, leaving this soft worn side quiet and turned. No amount of mending is going to make it ok. It will need to have some good sized cloth sewn on. Ok, but....i wasn't ready for that yet. Not ready to say goodbye.
What makes things ok. ? What small, really, things, make such a difference that stuff all of a sudden, is just enough OK.? I brought back, from the Storage Unit the Sister Pillow of the above. This one not having wear and remaining very whole, even tho old too. The pale blue pillow and the Old Grandmother Pillow. This small pile of books. And i am leaving this basket of scraps Out.
Each night, i need to move these things over to the table bench seat, to make my bed. Each morning, i roll up my sheet and quilt, pillow and bring them back. Like you see them in the pic above. And it's all just Fine. It's all feeling very OK. Books. A basket of cloth. Pillows. It doesn't take much.
9 months since they have roamed the Hill. the doe Goats
Since it is Thinking Back Time, i spend some time Remembering them in New Mex. Their world there of sand within Fence. No view. They had no view. or, a single Point of View. Fence. they had their migratory corridor from one fenced yard to another. The corridor was fenced. I had the horizon. They did not.
Then here, for 8 months they had their very amazing Forest. So full, so Wild, so free. But then, they were let loose. I went back in the calendar...last July. Let loose. 6 acres. Many views. Their paths are woven and worn. This is their first Spring, free. Yesterday, we saw that Arctica's lower jaw was very swollen. down to her neck. Being this time of year, the first thought, or first Fear is snake bite. But at evening feed for the Bucks, when the doe Goats get a small amount of the baled alfalfa, she ate as usual, swelling and all. Wait till morning. Morning, it's much less swollen. This eve as i write this, much less. Maybe a bee or wasp sting.
I have been so lucky. Having animals, "livestock" is always fraught with things. We did lose Cinderella. We did evacuate to Gridley for the Fire and come back with mites and probably parasites, which took a general deworming a while ago. But really, we have been so so very lucky. Everytime i am Out There, they come around, even if they are far off, they come around and commune. We are so Same, me, them, them, me. I was able to leave the door open last night, just the screen door and this brings me close to them again. I hear their movement in the deep dark. I hear them stir before First Light. Living with Goats. I can feel one of my pupils horizontal, feel the horns on my skull. Feel their nostrils and lips. How their lips are finger tips.
and this Cloth...now, in Celebration of the Spirit of Emily Dickenson
If you want to be SURPRISED and AMAZED, go...Listen to Future Primitive podcast of 4-20-2019
interview with Steven Herrmann about the "prophetic visionary", Emily Dickinson. His book: Emily Dickinson: A Medicine Woman for Our Times.
I never imagined.
a female Wind
I met Alyssia and the kids at the Storage Place at noon. She had decided that she can use the futon couch, two chairs the dresser and my beloved stove Sabine at her house. For now. All the two days of loading things in New Mex, i kept saying, i don't need to take this. I don't need to take this. She kept saying, take it. Decide once you are there. Alyssia is a keeper. we were there 4 hours. Now the bankers boxes and some things line the walls in a U shape. I can get to each box. Look. Think.
The plan had been for Alyssia to clean the Attic at her rented house and Julian would have that as a bedroom. He was thrilled. But it's warming up now and has become totally clear that it would be intensely HOT up there, even with some kind of air conditioner running all the time. So...plan B or F, whatever. The attic will be used for Storage. To see how it goes. Her house is 15 min from here. There's a lot of room up there.
These bankers boxes. Books. Kitchen stuff, like all the sizes of pyrex casserole dishes anyone might imagine needing. Pyrex pie plates. I think there are 4. Pots and pans. Bowls. all kinds. Things like that. The books...includes the full set of 10 volumes of the Books of Knowledge and 10 volumes of Lands and Peoples....the 30's editions. My childhood. Some magazines that i love. Old ones. Before i left i took boxes of books to the Library for their sale. All the dishes are packed wrapped in linens. Sheets and towels. A lot. There are the two wooden toy boxes. There are the bankers boxes with Treasures written on the masking tape. She kept looking through them, lifting one thing up after another, delighting in them, many things familiar to her from her own babyhood. These...i can now go back by my self and look. Think. I can get to each box now. I have no idea what to do with all those treasures. I'll take pics of that process. Easier than trying to word it here.
I brought back 7 books. 5 of those under the bed storage tubs, one large garbage bag of textiles. One of the storage tubs of clothes. Summer ones. 3 large pillows with covers i love. that i made. A large box of Jars. my JARS!!! from the Smiths Grocery in Socorro, pasta sauce jars with plain black lids, no writing. I would just buy the sauce because i wanted another jar. Them. Perfect for dying cloth. Aesthetically so satisfying. Yes. And some large glass jars. Them too.
There's that black wooden chair of the Old Cowboy's. shored up with baling wire on the legs. I'll bring it here, in, it will be totally awkward at the end of this kitchen table. it probably won't work, But, maybe it's worth the discomfort. It was his mothers. Flossie. What else? oh the wooden dragon wind chime that's out in the Morning Tree and already the humming birds have checked it out.
That's it for now. OH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!! i had resigned self to having somehow left my copper pot behind. Given up. But in one of the bankers boxes marked Treasures, Alyssia poking through, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee! there it WAS!
After all the angst about the Shed.....maybe we don't even need a shed. Wouldn't that be Interesting?????
